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Rhianecdote Jan 2015
You realise that I can't help you.*
I've spent my time in the dark
over and over*
and adjusting eyes
can't cry tears for you,
they strive to stay open.

You reach out to me
but I beg you loosen your grasp.
I hold no secrets of how
to leave this place.
No map or direction as I run away
and the guilt it makes me
want to stay and help?

But what good would it do
any of us if I feel in resent
that you drag me back down
to a place I no longer want to be?

I stare back at you
and are confronted
with what used to be me!
That other person I wish
to be separated from,
the one I can't bear to see.

So I abandon you in a last ditch
attempt to save me;
all in the knowing that
in doing so I'm lost already...
They say that you're a product of the people you surround yourself with and that is very true of me. It just seems that all too often I come across people very much like me (prone) and all to often I have found myself in the predicament where help given is at my own expense, particularly if I'm in a bad place myself. I cannot help but feel that I am supposed to help them in some way though. It's almost been a compulsion since childhood as I cannot bear to see people feeling alone, in need of help and just walk on by. It may sound selfish but I'm coming to the realisation ( in my case any way) that I must look after myself for that is when one can be of the most help to others. It leaves me questioning myself and my motives for helping. If somehow by helping these people I hope to help myself, that I can somehow make something good from my bad experiences by passing on what I've learnt or if altruism actually does exist. It is in my nature to care and look after others and that will never change but being someone who finds it near on impossible to accept direct help I must also look after and help myself too even if that means putting myself first or accepting that I am not the person to be of help, which is a hard thing to do at times.

Do you relate?
Rhianecdote Jan 2015
and
What's        Why's?
            
                        The
                 makings
         and
           demise
    
           Of us.
Rhianecdote Jan 2015
Sometimes there's
nothing more beautiful
than things left unsaid...

                     And sometimes
                      there's nothing
                                 worse.
The conflict between endless possibility and certainty is something that leads to the contradiction that is my life.
Each bring their own comforts and pitfalls, possibility allowing for hope, but is it false?
Certainty allowing for self assurance but at the cost of imagination and potential.
Rhianecdote Jan 2015
You know how you're supposed to grow?

Well I retreated.

Treated and Re-Treated,

For ailments unknown.
Rhianecdote Jan 2015
Truth be told,

              I don't think anyone
understands the hurt that I hold.

                                                Least of all me...
Rhianecdote Dec 2014
Scars
mean
    you're
           no
             longer
           bleeding
             out.

                               Scars
                                   mean
                                        that
                                          you
                                       healed.

                                                        ­So
                                                      never
                                                      be        ­                      .                                          ­   ashamed
                                                             or afraid
                                                          ­      of scars.
Rhianecdote Dec 2014
I'd pause as
you'd say Grace,
fork hovering in space
even though I didn't
hold that faith.
Call it gracefull,
and you were grateful,
You were great...
at times
Moody and complex
enough to frustrate...
at times
Changed my mind
on a lot of things,
changed it back again,
enigmatic to the end.
Faith restored and lost
When this Angel was sent.
So I utter this grace
to our beginning
and our end.
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